New York's Most Trying Days
by W Blankenship
Summary: This is a web of shadows fic. This is a collection of short stories of different people and thier accounts before, during, and after the events of Spiderman: Web of Shadows
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel or Spider-man icons herein. Neither do I own anything about any story or plot of Spider-man: Web of Shadows.

**A/N: Here is a take on the game Spider-man: Web of Shadows. This is going to be a series of short stories about different people's point of view before, during, and after the symbiote invasion. If you find yourself a little lost or confused you may want to read a quick plot of the game, but I'll try not to keep you to far out of the loop.**

Chapter One: First Signs

It was upon us. Some of us knew it was here some of us were completely caught off guard. The following accounts were those who fought and survived this alien invasion. Stories of heroism, despair, hope, and perseverance. I am here to collect and report this human struggle so that it will never be forgotten.

**I arrived at the apartment of Tim Locke. As he answers the door his face expresses great joy that I have arrived. The living room is styled with old English furniture and the coffee table is complete with an old china set as we both sit down to begin his interview.**

Well shit, it's not like they were hard to spot. I mean you had to know what you were looking for, but before the outbreak we had no idea of their symptoms. Initially those who had been infected didn't look like Sam (symbiotes) they were just as normal as they come except for the little black alien living inside them. At first it was only one or two at time and their own family members were submitting them. The first one I came across was a young girl, 16 years of age and as healthy as they come. She had no mental or physical kinks until she arrived of course. She was beginning to show signs of mild schizophrenia. She complained of internal pains that we simply could not find and of course the "voices" in her head. I asked her parents of anything prior to her behavior that could have alluded to her current situation. If I remember correctly they said she had come home late one night and seemed very fatigued and went straight to bed. Of course that doesn't seem odd for a teenage girl these days, but what was odd is that the following morning she was missing, and her window had been opened. This also was very likely behavior you know sneaking out late at night to see some boyfriend or whatever the case. What made this spark my attention was that her window was on the 12th floor with no immediate fire escape. They had no idea how she must have managed to get down from her room.

From then on more and more patients arrived at our hospital. All were showing the same symptoms, and this created a bit of discomfort for our staff. See, after we began seeing so many cases we had our entire psych wing pulling twelve-hour shifts. We thought we had enough problems but that was just the beginning. Very shortly after arriving all the patients began to show aggressive behavior and you can almost put it as primitive behavior. They began screaming at and biting our nurses. We had to bring in our entire security staff just to subdue them. We began administering heavy sedatives, you know the ones that could put a horse down. It worked, for a day.

What chilled me the most and ultimately forced my decision to bring this to the board was that the patients began communicating with one another. They growled or hissed at one another. I'm not sure if you read about our incident in the paper. It was the first sign of panic. Goddamn press couldn't keep their mouths shut. See one of our nurses was doing a routine check up on a patient, but when she stepped inside the patient's room he was gone. She checked the room quickly before calling for more help. I was just passing the reception desk when I saw the light flicker for help in that room. I quickly noticed that the patient in that room was one of the nut cases and I grabbed the nearest security guard. We both ran over to the room expecting the usual, broken furniture, yelling, and a whole team of nurses holding one of them down. This was not the case. I tried I really did, but I was a second too late. As we were just a few feet from the room the nurse was yelling at us that she couldn't find the patient. That's when we both froze. You think during moments like these you would do something courageous like in a movie or something. Nope. We saw him. Little bastard was crawling on the ceiling just like our friendly neighborhood spider-man. Oh on a side note if you plan on interviewing that Son of a Bitch give him these. I know there is tons bullshit out there in the media right now about who started this whole mini-apocalypse but I have very god sources from people in very key positions and they gather that Spiderman had a huge role in this epidemic. I want him to remember what happened and the lives of so many lost.

**Dr. Locke hands me a folder filled with disturbing images of the patients and what they did to the staff. It created an unforgettable scene of chaos.**

Anyway right before I could yell, "Get the hell out of there," he dropped right in front of the nurse and threw her back into a wall. The guard and I ran as fast as we could but the patient had shut the door and twisted the handle effectively jamming it. We both tried kicking and ramming the door initially, but that door wouldn't budge. As the guard radioed for more help all I could do is stand there and watch through the window as he tore her apart. It took nearly five minutes to get the door open. Five minutes. Of course as soon as we opened that door he attacked the guard, but he survived all right. He and this other guard who had arrived were able to stun the patient with their shock guns. I've seen a lot of nasty wounds and people who have been tore up pretty bad, but that nurse was literally all over the room. Before, the room was painted white and now it had a fresh coat of red. I did not even bother asking the guard, I just grabbed his sidearm and put all seven rounds into the freak. Neither of the guards stopped me. We simply walked out of that room and sat in the hallway with our backs against the hall. That was it. That was the last day I spent working at any hospital. I resigned my position, grabbed all my personal things from my apartment, and got out. I called a lot of my family and friends and told them to do the same. "Manhattan is going only going to get worse," I'd say, but my friends were skeptical of my ranting and stayed as if nothing unusual was going on. Three days after I had left the city I was in a diner near the North Carolina and Virginia state line when the news was reporting a public health emergency, and advising all to stay clear of New York City.

**As I walk to the door to leave Dr. Locke's apartment I glance over into another room and see the whole room filled with filing cabinets and folders jammed with papers. Dr. Locke had noticed me looking into the room and said that they were the patient's folders, records, and conditions. There must have been at hundreds of thousands of papers here. **

**A/N: well I hoped you liked it. I'm going to try tons of perspectives on this. Maybe a city engineer, homeless people, subway tram operators, priests etc….. I'm trying to mix many occupations with varied situations. Got more coming. Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Price We Pay

Chapter 2: The Price We Pay

**As I walk outside Dr. Beaman explains to me what post-symbiotic trauma is like. As we pass a garden leading to a small creek we both see Eric Flatt sitting on a bench. His face is expressionless, as he continues to watch the water flow downstream. As I sit next to him he glances over at me and continues looking at the creek.**

I really wish I could tell you more. I have been saying that for nearly one year now. I can't remember a damn thing. So, I'll tell you what I tell everyone else. I remember waking up face down in the middle of a street. It was quite, very quite. The streets were littered with cars and broken glass and debris. I remember slowly being able to stand. I wasn't alone others were there trying to stand too, but no one was saying anything. I remember trying to remember anything, but nothing came to my head. These doctors started to analyze me. I hope they can begin to help us. Then again some days I think no one can help us.

**Help you with what?**

Help me find me. You know that thing that makes you, you, that one essential piece of all of humanity that no one else has but yourself. The thing that defines you. It was taken from me. I don't remember who I am. I mean sure I know how walk, how to talk, and read. But if you ask me my name or who I am I couldn't answer you confidently. All I have are pictures in a wallet and names on sheets of paper. That's what that thing did it stole my identity. Christ I can't even remember my OWN family. Shortly after this whole thing happened I looked my self up in an address book and went to my home except I didn't recognize a Goddamn thing. (Eric begins to raise his voice and his arms start to tremble) You know what I can't remember. I…I...I don't know how to hold my own child. How to love my wife, because I look at her I don't see or feel anything. I spent the next few weeks living with these strangers that are my family. I tried to remember, but days went on and nothing clicked. One morning I woke up and my wife had gone exercising at the gym. I began searching again, trying to find anything that would help me remember. Then I came across my wife's diary. As I read I was amazed at how much of a gentleman I used to be to her. She wrote of many romantic evenings we spent together. She would write about me everyday. Then I began to look at her recent entries, and you know what cuts me deepest? She doesn't recognize me. She wrote in her diary that the man she loved is gone, and that every time she kisses me it seems that I somehow feel empty. My daughter and I would play with her dolls and she would tell me to give her our secret little kiss or to call her by the nickname I gave her and all I could do is sit there and cry as she kept asking and waiting on me to call her by her nickname. I can handle not knowing myself okay, but when it arrives to a point where my inability to have compassion for the people I cared about most and to see them wallow with me, then it has gone too far. So I did the only descent thing I could. I left them; maybe they will be better off. Everything, I've lost it all. All to that damn symbiote, you see when it died that part of me died with it. Now I wish it had taken the rest of me along with it. Here take this; I have no use for it anymore.

**I turn and head back towards Dr. Beaman who seems to be studying his notes on his clipboard.**

"**Well that is one side of the spectrum it seems to be a manic depression obviously induced by their exposure to the symbiote. The other outcome is a bit more aggressive."**

* * *

**Justin Reaves's hands are bound as he takes his seat in the chair and faces the one-sided mirror where I begin to ask him about his experience with the symbiote.**

What?! Have you found my other? You speak of the symbiote. WHERE IS OUR OTHER? **(Mr. Reaves cranes his head from side to side as if looking for something.)** You cannot keep me here. I need to find the symbiote! It had given me everything and you took it from us! You will all die! I will dine with your brains before my time is up!

Where is it! Where have you taken our other!

**(Without warning Mr. Reaves stands to his feet and begins yelling and screaming incomprehensible jargon. He slams his fists into the mirror trying to break his way through and we both flinch at each impact. The first layer of glass begins to crack as we both take a step back. Now Mr. Reaves's fists are splintered with broken glass. To my shock he does not stop but continues to break through the glass with his head effectively splintering his face with fragments of glass as well. He simply ignores the pain because he is so consumed with his anger. Before any further damage could be done several security guards enter the room and subdue him.)**

**As I leave the compound Dr. Beaman apologizes for the scare and then Eric approaches me and hands me his wallet telling me he has no more use for it. I gather my things and start to leave. As I walk towards my car I turn around to see a tear fall from Eric's face. Inside the car I look at the photos of Eric and his family, they were happy. I conclude that no matter whom or where you were during this conflict all have been affected and all of us have lost.**

**A/N: Just added this piece to illustrate the choas that must have been created after the invasion had been stopped. not really a point of view, but it helps to create a scene of what these people had gone through. this will help out in the later chapters. sorry it took so long. please review**


	3. Chapter 3: Coming Undone

**Chapter 3: Coming Undone**

**[Corporal Ross meets me at his driveway just thirty miles north west of the greater New York area. As I step out my car we exchange pleasantries, and he offers me a beer as we enters his house.]**

First I can't apologize for what I did, and I won't just use the terrible cliché of saying that I was just following orders. See that's what the Goddamn humanists don't understand. They weren't there; they weren't in the middle of this mess. When I did my first couple of tours of combat four years ago it was different. The enemy was another man another person, but this was something different. Back then we had a front line and so did they, but this fight was all around us. They could be anywhere not just the buildings or streets but on the walls and in the sewer. I've seen a lot of soldiers walk too close to manholes and then simply disappear the next second only to here their echoed screams.

**[So what were your duties initially?]**

I began security detail of the quarantine centers. My orders were to make sure all the presumed infected did not rebel or cause a scene. That was the most important part. We had to illustrate to the people of New York that the situation was under control. If I failed and I actually had to kill one of those people think of the repercussion. No one would think they were safe from the symbiote and now they would think that we are here to eliminate them. This would give them the "there is no one on my side," thought which just spirals into chaos.

I must say we were doing a damn good job until that sparking nut bag showed up. I think he was looking for a sibling or something. It doesn't matter who he was looking for because either way he ripped through nearly all of the quarantine centers. Yeah. He killed fourteen agents, thirty-three civilians and then got himself infected along the way, not to mention he completely undid everything we had started. Stupid bastard, my sector was able to shut down the entire city block and en large the quarantine, but that was when the reality of the situation hit me. That sad excuse for a light show had torn open all of our security measures so the infected starting jumping out and scrambling.

There were about twelve of them. They moved quickly from wall to wall making a hell of a target. I followed one target as it bounced off the wall and jumped on to a light post. Personally I think it was tougher to shoot before they turned into those black ugly monsters. I mean try imagining a deranged psycho who looks like your average Joe or Jane hissing, screaming, and becoming this monster. It sort of catches you off guard when you viewing them down your sights. Anyway I was about to put one of them down when suddenly another one blindsided me. She knocked me clear off my feet and cold. Then what was crazy was this little girl who was infected started dragging me down the road. With my eyes closed and I could feel my back being scrapped against the pavement. I guess she must have dragged me about one hundred yards before I snapped to again. The sound got me moving fast. I heard their growling and then some deep bellowing and I looked ahead of me as I was being scrapped across the pavement and there was this giant bulbous plant. Except this was some kind of plant from the armpit of hell. Tendrils veined out in every direction from this thing. It was the first time I had been scared like that in a while. As soon as I got my bearings straight I fashioned my side arm and gave the girl three in the back. Two of the rounds impacted on the upper back and the last landed at the base of her skull. Her body fell limp as the last shot exited her head, I never saw her face, but then again it was probably better that way. That thought quickly escaped my mind as one of those tendrils wrapped around my leg and started pulling me towards it. I screamed and kicked violently around as I was losing my mind. I tried to grab onto anything but nothing was helping. Finally I just tried to dig my hands into the pavement. It didn't do shit. The steroid raging plant was about to eat me for dinner when the rest of my squad showed up and emptied everything they had into it. I mean not just bullets they used are their fragmentation grenades and even our 40mm rounds before it gave in. Black slime was splashing everywhere from the explosions almost like a black rain. Anyway we got control back all right it took nearly seven hours to process everyone within our new zone but we got it done.

As I said earlier we had to show the people that we were in control, but then that all happened and people panicked. Things started to unravel fast, naturally we lost control some infected would slip by and it became impossible to contain. So HQ made the choice to quarantine Manhattan. So everyone, civilian or military was SOL. We had to act quick so some of our engineers setup the best safe zone they could fashion, given the lack of time and hostile environment it was very formidable. You got to hand it to those guys they know their shit.

**[So were you stationed at the head quarters for security?]**

**[Ross's tone suddenly changed as his face seemed burdened with grief]**

Two days after we had established our safe zone on the southern part of the island I was assigned to one of those half-cocked energy barriers. They were supposed to be shelters and collection pools for anyone who could make it into its protective energy dome. Yeah I would like to talk to the genius who thought it was a good idea. They quickly became feeding grounds for the symbiotes. We made it easy for them, we just put out a huge sign saying if your having a hard time finding a human just come over to this bright beacon of light and you're bound to find one staggering their way here. I couldn't give you an exact number of the times people were picked up and carried off just inches away from safety. And here I am trying to prevent just that. I was a good shot so my fire team leader gave me a rifle and put me on a roof. My orders were easier said than done: make sure you kill any of those bastards before they can snatch any civilians. I couldn't do it alone. There were too many targets and they were all mixed in together. Sometimes I could save a life, sometimes I couldn't. Sometimes they would get away with someone and sometimes I would have to play God. I'll never forget that. Those times I would have to look at some innocent boy, girl, man, or woman and then their life would disappear behind the flash of my rifle. If I missed the first the shot, by the time I reloaded my rifle I had about three seconds to take the surest shot I could. It was easier to hit my mark now because by the time I had missed the first shot they were looking right at me. Bang… I had no other choice so I did the only human thing I could think of… a shot of grace. At least they would not have to go through the hell of turning into one of those monsters.

**[Corporal Ross led me down into his basement. As I walk down the stairs I see his work out station and dead weights neatly placed in descending order. Next to the weights Ross ushers me over to two large footlockers. As he opens the footlockers the chime of empty bullet casings echoes throughout the basement.]**

Every person I let down is right here. Their last moment is found right here inside these casings.

A few days after I had been assigned to watch over our safe zone I heard a friend of mine over the radio Simon Dukick was his name. He had been assigned by command for deep search and rescue of a few people that we could really use to combat this new enemy people like biochemist and medical physicians. Anyway I was checking my field and I heard his voice crackle over the coms channel. I immediately recognized his voice and I yelled over the radio to him to see what he was doing. He told me that he had three of these priority targets with him and he was in a hell of a hurry to get to the nearest collection point. So he gave me his position and I see that I am actually his closest safe zone so I start routing him over to me. I could not help myself but I offered him that I would get us a cold one as soon as we got out of this place. As soon as I said that he told me if I got him to the safe zone he would cover my drinks for a long while. So I said back to him "sounds like you're in some trouble" and he called back "Yeah Ross uh it's getting a little hostile over here. Shit, keep your head down!" I could here the echo of him shooting over the radio and then spilt seconds later I heard it again at my position. "Ross, how far is it to your location?" "You're about sixty meters to the next block then head east or left and you'll see me." It seemed like it took him forever to make it into my sight but he finally peered around the corner about six blocks from the collection point. I suddenly realized the reason for his hurry. Eight of those black bastards were almost on top of them. "Ross I could really use some cover right now!" "All right I gotcha just don't stop moving." I quickly chambered a round and flipped my laser guide on. The symbiotes were jumping from one side of the road to the other trying to grab the civilians as they passed.

**[As Ross explains he opens a small cigar case. Inside are seven bullet shells and one unfired round.]**

As Simon was running and gunning his way to my safe zone I sent those things to hell. **[Ross began to count out loud as he dropped each of the shells on the floor]**

One, two, three, four, five, six…seven. I can still see all them. Each shot was like a photograph in my mind.

**[Ross looks at me with a question.]**

You know how a rifle operates?

**[I shrug at his question as he begins to explain]**

Once the bullet has been cocked and chambered into the rifle it is armed and ready to be fired. As you pull the trigger back a small hammer is cocked back just behind the live round. And once you pull the trigger back to the full position the hammer then releases and slams on the back of the bullet. Now on the back of every bullet there is a small primer charge, it sets off the explosive charge that propels the bullet out of the rifle.

I swear to you that I got every single last one of those monsters. Simon and his VIPs were only twenty meters away from the zone when he was knocked over. He wrestled and fought for his life and I couldn't get a clear shot. I watched as he screamed at me over the radio to take the bastard out. I chocked. I have never in my long career chocked in combat, but seeing my friend struggle for his life got me off balance. I lost my friend that day. I never want that put on me again. All of these lives you see before you I let them all down and then sent to their maker. Here take this. Out of this mess one thing is for sure, none of us will ever make it to heaven.

**[Ross hands me the unfired round in the cigar case. As he ushers me to the door I look at the back of the bullet and notice something. The primer charge had a dimple on it. I realize now that the unfired round was not meant to kill the symbiote. Ross knew he had no clear shot at the symbiote. So he had to look at his friend down that scope and play God one more time. He pulled the trigger and "click" nothing fired. The hammer didn't strike the primer charge and not only could Ross not save his friend; he also couldn't save him from being taken away and turning into one of those monsters.]**

**A/N: please tell me what you think.**


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